Mutants and Miracles
by Zarius
Summary: (Fred Wolf Cartoon): It's Christmas time and the Turtles find themselves bringing in the holiday spirit in the most challenging ways possible. From fixing up a Teddy Bear, to dressing up as a freaky Phantom, before ultimately dealing with a hostage crisis kickstarted by The Rat King. Will this be a time for joy and change, or a time to stay in bed for once?
1. Chapter 1

**TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES:**

**MUTANTS AND MIRACLES**

**WRITTEN BY ZARIUS**

**NOTE: This story takes place after "Turtles Forever" and is Book Five of a Ten book series. The other titles so far include, "So Long, No Thanks For All The Fish", "My Seer, My Secretary", "Raphael Counts 'Em All" and "The Lotus and The Sun"**

**DISCLAIMER: The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are trademarked by Nickelodeon, the 1980s cartoon characters are trademarked by Fred Wolf. All original characters are mine**

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

Christmas was many things, but the one word that could best describe it on a consistent basis was "frantic". Frantic shoppers and frantic traffic littered the pavements and roads of New York City. For a large contingent of people there was very little time for real recreational activity when there were presents to purchase and job obligations to fulfill.

Yes. Job obligations. Christmas, even in the present time, still carried with the Bob Cratchetts of the age, working tirelessly for their Ebenezers, and unlike that wonderful carol , there would be no ghosts to put their greed notions to rest.

For those with the good fortune to not be so committed to the workplace, or obligated by the pull of good parenting to shower their offspring with expensive gifts, there were a few places where they could entertain themselves, but sometimes one good place is all you need. Such a place came in the form of the nearby ice rink in the heart of Times Square, where many a couple and an aspiring skater glided across the smooth and slippery floor in graceful motion. For a period that felt so out of control, many skaters felt like they could master just about anything. Not just their bodies, but their troubles too.

Situated at the center of the rink was another mistress of her particular element. April O'Neil, ace reporter for _Channel Six_ news, covering the jubilant activity for her station.

"This is April O'Neil live from Times Square in New York, where, as the countdown to Christmas slowly ticks away, many are flocking to the beautiful and bustling skating rink to take their minds off those scrambling to make it home and prepare their purchased presents for the big day in three days time when they will be unwrapped by family members young and old. What will YOU be waking up to Christmas morning? We'll be back with you live in a few hours when yours truly will be taking to the ice with the elegant, dynamic, mysterious and talented skater, our very own "Phantom of the Arctic", see you then"

As the live feed was cut, April's assistant and cameraman, Vernon, was quick to criticize her.

"April, keep in mind kids are watching, drop a line about good old Saint Nick when we come back" he insisted.

April sighed.

"Santa? Why?" she said

"You don't want them to think he's not coming down the chimney do you?" Vernon replied

"Oh grow up Vernon, It's hard pressed to find any kid that believes in a Father Christmas anymore" April countered.

"Mr. Thompson's NEPHEWS do, and if you want a big surprise this year in regards to bonuses, it's best you keep ALL the children in mind" Vernon replied.

"Oh fine" April said, complying with some resistance in her tone, "But I'm leaving you to SUPPLY me with a Santa. If I'm going to drop a line about him, he may as well show up as a surprise"

"Oh leave that to me, I have the perfect candidate, it's a sure thing" Vernon replied. A thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Say, April?" he asked.

"What is it?" April said

"Who is going to be our "Phantom of the Arctic" this year? Our usual man quit Channel Six last month"

"Just you worry about finding a Santa Vernon, I've got this covered...that is, IF he says '_yes'_ to it" April replied. Vernon nodded, letting her get on with it.

As he turned his attention to lecturing more of the news crew about just about anything that came to his snobbish, quasi-perfectionist mind, April took to her handy Turtle-Com and activated it. A friendly face soon materialized on the main screen, that of April's best friend, the party animal of the four maverick mutants known as the Ninja Turtles: Michelangelo.

"Hey dudette, what's hanging?" Michelangelo said.

"You free?" April asked.

"As a bird, no wait, I'm a Turtle, scratch that" Michelangelo replied. April giggled, and pressed forward with her inquiry.

"Ok, that's covered, do you SKATE?" she said.

"I'm a champion at that babe, got a real knack for the time I accidently froze up the whole lair" Michelangelo confessed.

"Well you better get back in the swing of things, I need you to put whatever skills you got to good use. Every year we stage a dance at the ice rink with a reporter and a "Phantom" skater who whisks his partner off on a whirlwind routine. I've been selected for it this year, but our main man quit over a pay raise a month ago, and we've been in the lurch ever since. What do you say Mike, You up for it?"

"Gee April, I'm good at slipping and a sliding, but dancing on ice? I think that's best left to British TV" Michelangelo admitted, scratching his head.

"Please, just talk it over with the guys, I'm sure they'll understand" April said.

"Oh yeah, of course, Raph would be really up for it" Michelangelo replied, April wasn't impressed.

"Talk it over with them, not talk yourself out of this" she replied.

"Fine, you win...again" Michelangelo said

"Just what I wanted to hear from my leading amphibian. Ciao" she said, and turned off the Turtle-com. Vernon once again approached her

"Remember April, all the pick-up shots of the skaters are your responsibility. Burne trusting you with the directing gig could lead to bigger things for you behind the cameras, and bigger opportunities for me in front of it if you like the taste of such a job. You better have asked all the right questions around those with the technical know-how"

"Oh I ask the right questions all the time...I only wish the time came where I could give the right answer" April said. Vernon was confused

"What do you mean by that?" he said

April looked up at the sky, placing a hand out to catch a falling snowflake. As it evaporated in her hand, she clutched it close to her.

"My business Vernon. Mind your own" she said, and set to work on the pick-up shots.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Inside the Turtles' lair, preparations were underway for the holidays yet to come. Leonardo and Raphael were in the kitchen, the casual tunes of the radio echoing through the room. Leonardo was perched on a chair, putting up decorations that hung rom the ceiling, and blowing up turtle-shaped balloons which he tied to little paperweights, which prevented them from floating upwards. Raphael was busy checking up on the Turtles' Christmas shopping lists, crossing out things they had acquired, and what was still to come. He moaned when he got down to Michelangelo's list.

Everyone had settled for things people in their late teens might find useful in day to day activity: body wash, a light-hearted book to read, and various tools to help out with inventions or to keep up the general maintenance around the lair, but Michelangelo was ever the kid, demanding video games, action figures, and yet another MP3 player. All very pricey items.

"You ever wish Mikey would just grow up? We're always so peaceful about his presents, I'm starting to feel like a real Turtle-dove, we need to put our foot down sometime" Raphael complained.

"Some people in this world are just born to play Raph, you can't expect them to change their nature just like that" Leonardo replied. "Master Splinter always taught us to be tolerant of one's tastes and to honor their desires"

"Yeah, but I don't think he ever put our budget into consideration with that advice" Raphael replied, "I know there's corners of the government that like putting forward our income for our years of diligent service, but if they knew what was being spent down here, they'd probably force us to take citizenship tests, take the bread from our table, and force us to work regular jobs"

"Mikey isn't beyond a bit of flexibility, if you just talk to him instead of outright telling him "we won't be doing this", he might try to tone the list down"

Conveniently enough, Michelangelo soon walked into the kitchen, Leonardo urged Raphael to try to start up the conversation.

"Leo, can we talk?" Michelangelo said, Leonardo pointed at himself, as if to say "me?". Raphael sighed and went back to examining the list.

"What's up?" Leonardo asked.

"April wants me to help her skate off at the rink, only it's some kind of dance. I'm not so much a prime time player in that department" Michelangelo explained

"You're still going though right? I mean...it's April" Leonardo replied.

"Yeah, I guess..." Michelangelo said, "It's just...this is the third thing I'll have done for her in the span of six months. Having dinner, attending the theatre etc, heck even checking in on that mother turtle at the beach was more her suggestion, even if I was up for that. I just wish I could say "my turn""

"Do you want to turn her down then?" Leonardo asked. Michelangelo shook his head.

"No, but she's really depending a lot on me. ME. I mean, what's so special about me?" Michelangelo asked, "I'm normally the non-stop party portion of the green machine"

"Maybe that's what she's looking for" Leonardo said, "Out of all four of us, you really are the most "normal", I'm well too wrapped up in my training, meditations, and swordsmanship, Raph's way too cynical sometimes, Don's invested in machines and hardware and often speaks above our station etc. We all have some way out-of-synch priorities when it comes to everyday life, but you're so care-free and focused on living that everything gels naturally with you around"

"So my kind of groove is the new normal these days? Righteous notion dude. I always knew it'd pay off one day" Michelangelo replied excitedly.

Soon enough, however, _everyone_ would be busy with something, starting with Michelangelo, as the radio station took a break from it's non-stop barrage of festive music to supply their listeners with a commercial.

"Fight fire with fire at the Engagements Martial Arts Expo" bellowed the commercial's narrator, "You and a partner of your choice can pit your wits against some of the most experienced martial arts masters for a chance to win a sizeable cash prize. To apply..."

Michelangelo abruptly switched off the radio, and pointed at it jubilantly, "That's it! That's totally it!"

"What's what?" Raphael asked

"That expo! I can wipe the floor easily with those guys, April wouldn't have to break a sweat, and she'd get to have a good laugh too. I've done more than enough for her, now she can have a good time with something I'm really passionate about. I'll ask her tonight at the skating rink"

He suddenly stopped himself, realizing what he'd done. "Wait" he said, "Aw, I switched the radio off before it could tell you how to apply"

Sensing the opportunity for a spot of mischief, Raphael chimed in.

"Oh don't worry Mike, I've heard that commercial before, I know EXACTLY how you apply, but first I need to ask, do you have any cash with you right now?" he asked

"Fifty bucks. April's aunt gave it to me as an early present when she last visited. Spend it wisely were her exact words. Wise isn't how I operate so I haven't dared spend it out of fear I'd get something really stupid and she'd find out"

"Following me has never been wiser where that cash is concerned" Raphael said, grabbing Michelangelo by the hand and dragging him along, "C'mon" he said.

"Raph, what are you up to?" Leonardo said, suspecting fowl play.

"Keep up the decorating, we may take a while" Raphael said, and the two swiftly exited the kitchen and the lair.

Opting to shake off Raphael's intentions and save his thoughts for another time, Leonardo resumed decorating, having particular trouble with a piece of mistletoe. The temporary peace was, however, shattered by a loud range of rambling coming from ahead of him, as Donatello walked in, screaming at someone on his Turtle-Com.

"I said CALM DOWN, I'll do whatever I can" he said

"What's up Donatello?" Leonardo asked

"Oh it's Irma" Donatello replied, "One of her Christmas presents is "defective", she wants me to fix it"

"Any word on when Master Splinter is coming back from Florida? You were trying to contact him earlier" Leonardo said, wanting to change the subject off of Irma as quickly as possible for Donatello's sake.

"Oh that's no problem Leonardo, Splinter took an early bus. He contacted me just before Irma patched in and began hollering"

"I am NOT hollering" Irma's voice insisted as it rang out from the Turtle-Com.

"At least he's safe" Leonardo said.

"He's also bringing some old friends around for the holidays: The Punk Frogs" Donatello added. Leonardo was now ecstatic.

"That's great news" he said, and got off the chair, grabbing his winter clothes off a clothes hanger, "I'll go meet him at the station. Could you finish up the decorations before you go for Irma's present? Raph and Mike have done a runner" Leonardo asked

"Sure, leave ME with all the practical stuff" Donatello replied in a sarcastic tone.

"Great, we'll try and get back for dinner" Leonardo said, and darted out of the lair.

"Wait, Leo, WHO'S GOING TO COOK THE DINNER? LEO?" Donatello yelled, but it was too late.

"Great" he said.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

At the local prison, Officer Paul Tobias was feeling the grind that came with the regular patrols of his sector of the building. Prisoners that had gotten to know him over the many months and years continued their daily habit of heckling him, attempting to wind him up. He paid them no mind, and preferred keeping any commands to keep calm to his partner Bret Trent, who relished the opportunity to play the intimidation game with those he was responsible for.

Walking over to Bret, Paul found he was occupied more with a book than what the prisoners were up to. He took a peek at the title: _"A Christmas Carol"._

"Of course" Tobias said. Bret peered up at him and nodded.

"Just taking a peek at the middle of it" Bret replied. "Christmas Present, don't want to get to the depressing part too quickly"

"Afraid it will blight your merriest of days by speaking true of your attitude?" came a raspy voice from the cell behind the two officers. Bret instantly too to the defense.

"Quiet you" he said.

"I thought he only talked to the rats" Paul said, and took a gander at the large rodent Bret kept as a pet as it dangled off of the man's keys. Part of him felt more than uneasy about Bret keeping that thing around the man the known world identified as "The Rat King"

"I have learned a great deal from conversing with the _true_ vermin of the world..that which makes up most of humanity. It has given me a greater appreciation of the subjects I serve, the oppressed journeymen of the cursed Earth around us"

Bret laughed. "Your loyal subjects haven't lifted a finger to bust you out, probably too busy with the tiniest scraps of cheese left on a street curb, or finding the jangling of keys to be the most rewarding exercise they can partake in. Wake up Rat King, it's been seven years of a thirteen-plus sentence and your kingdom's crumbled more than the average cookie"

With that said, Bret shut the book, his recreational activity shattered by the disruption on hand, he went over to the radio perched on the table and activated it. As the latest smash-hit songs began playing over the airwaves, the collection of prisoners in the cells raised their voices in protests at the sickening sounds of mediocre output. Bret was more than happy to add to their memory by turning up the volume.

The barrage of music was, however, soon cut short by a break for the latest local news bulletins. The prisoners welcomed the reprieve and started heckling Bret with loud cat-calls and fowl-tempered songs at his expense. Rat King didn't join in, feeling this sort of interaction with the lowest of the low was beneath his station.

"And in local news, after weeks of dealing with a growing infestation of rats, the _St. Wells _Orphanage is to receive a visit from the city's top exterminator unit, who will be using the opportunity to test out a different type of gas on the rodent incursion, one that will render them helpless within an instant rather than a few seconds" announced the newsreader.

Bret welcomed this bit of news, as it enabled him to take another swing at his choice of target this day.

"Looks like your crumbling kingdom's taken another hard bite" he said, letting out another piggish laugh, and stroking the fur of his pet rat, placing it back on the edge of his keys.

The Rat King, whilst clearly incensed, remained composed and collected.

"Despite how much you people repulse me, I have learned many a new trick from you, tricks that will help me

Do you want to know of the many tricks I have learned from you people?" Rat King asked. Bret waved him off, uninterested, and took to playing with his pet rat, allowing it to walk gently along both of his hands and up his arm.

Paul, however, was curious by what the Rat King was talking about.

"Tell me" he said.

"Have you ever heard of Sigil magic?" The Rat King asked. Paul shook his head.

"It's relatively simple. Anyone can practice it, it is a clear cut way to understanding the realms of chaos magic, you can make just about anything happen to you, and it comes to you almost instantly. Simply write down a desire in the form of a sentence, take out the repeated letters of said sentence, then take out the vowels. You should be left with a string of consonants, take the consonants, rearrange them, and mash them up. What you should have is something that does not resemble the original sentence. Stare at what you have created, concentrate all your mental energy on it, and inevitably your desire will manifest gradually over time"

Paul was mesmerized by the explanation. The Rat King suddenly leaned forward, beckoning Paul to come closer so he could gently whisper in his ear.

"Do you wish to know of my deepest desire?" he said. Paul nodded, transfixed by the knowledge he was being given, he was eager to learn.

"I wanted to direct a Hollywood movie" he said. Paul took a step backwards, a tad baffled.

Suddenly, the rat bit deep into Bret's hand. Bret screamed and tried to shake off the creature. Paul ran over to his friend and tried to pry the creature off him, the rat finally let go and ran down the side of Bret's body, quickly snagging it's teeth on the keys and running towards the Rat King's cell. The Rat King picked up the keys from the rodent, stroked its little head and kissed it gently, before inserting the key into the lock of the door. The cell door swung open and he stepped out.

"This day had been long prepared for me as soon as you first brought your pet into this pit many months ago" he told Bret, who was in very apparent pain. "The world, however, had ceased to interest me, you were quite right, my kingdom had crumbled, but now that forces are gathering, action is apparent, my kingdom has come again"

All around him, he could feel chaos in motion. The desperation of prisoners hungry for equal freedom, the distress of his captors as they scrambled for their guns. He whistled gently as he walked over to Paul and kicked the gun out of his hand and delivered another vicious kick to his head, knocking him down. Bret reached for his own gun, but his once faithful furry friend was keen to attack him once again, clawing away at his eyes. The Rat King beckoned the rat to him, it ran up and crawled up the side of his leg and up to his shoulder.

The Rat King kneeled down next to Paul, who was barely conscious, he put one finger up to his chin and forced him to stare into his glowing red eyes.

"When the time comes to make your report, you will tell of my escape in a precise amount of detail, you will talk of this plan, and you will talk of my intent. What I intend to do will be talked about for years to come, word will eventually reach Hollywood, ever desperate for an idea, a moment that defines larger than life ambition and perseverance. In time, ten years, twenty, or even less, a movie will likely be made following, to the letter, my directions, my details, my desires...my ambition will come to life, all without having to play the game by their rules"

Paul groaned, and finally gave in to his injuries, slowly slipping into unconsciousness. The Rat King turned and started running down the corridors of the prison. As he did so, he tossed the keys into another cell, allowing another prisoner to take his leave, and from there the domino effect began. By the time The Rat King was out of his wing of the prison, the seeds of a full scale riot was being sown.

Soon he, and eventually his subjects, would taste true freedom, and so much more would come afterwards.

Such was his desire.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Donatello buzzed the door to Irma's apartment once again. This was now the fourth time in a row.

He knew someone was in, as he could hear clear barking on the other end, but a furry four-legged friend was not who he'd come to visit. Time was not on his side. So many priorities were running through his head. He STILL had to prepare dinner for the other Turtles, Splinter, AND their visitors the Punk Frogs. On top of that, his own stomach was feeling the hunger grind. All this to come and he had yet to pick up the item Irma wanted repaired. He didn't know how he was going to fit it all into the next few hours.

"Come on, open up" Donatello said out loud, tapping his hands lightly on his legs, trying to keep himself amused, he started playing a little tune in his head and ended up getting a bit carried away with it. He began to twirl and take steps to the left and right, before commencing a series of aerobics stretches, bending over and touching his tip toes with his hands.

As he continued this technique, the door to the apartment opened and Irma emerged, dressed in a blue dressing gown, her feet covered in woolly slippers that matched the gown in color. Donatello froze when he saw the slippers, and abruptly turned around, trying to collect himself and get back to a more serious stance, he brushed himself down and turned back to face her.

"Sorry Irma, I just got bored waiting for some sign of life beyond that...door" he said, briefly trailing off as he got a closer look at the amused Irma. She was standing upright, a comb in her right hand, her hair, usually held up, was down, and she wasn't wearing her glasses.

"Donny? Hello?" Irma said, waving her free hand in front of Donatello's glazed expression, snapping her fingers to try and get his attention. Finally, she reached for her pair of glasses on the table just behind the door and put them on.

"There, do you recognize me now?" Irma asked. Donatello finally snapped out of his funk. He didn't quite know what had just come over him, only that it had provided a far better distraction than his impromptu exercise outside. He sort of smiled back at her, not knowing what to say. Irma shrugged and brushed her hair a bit, beckoning Donatello to come into the apartment with a turn of her head

"I was taking a shower" she said as she let Donatello in, "If it wasn't obvious enough, you _have_ to shed a couple of things before you can hose down"

"I get it, I get it" Donatello insisted.

As he entered the living area of the apartment, the source of the barking the Turtle had heard earlier got closer, before revealing itself to be a small, but lively and energetic dog. Donatello scooped it up, it keenly licked his face.

"Why hello there boy" Donatello said, stroking the dog's back, "I didn't know you still had this lovely thing Irma, I've been around here a couple of times and he's never around"

"I kind of share him with the whole of the apartment complex, the other tenants used to take him in whenever I was working at Channel Six or busy with house chores. I've obviously had a lot of free time since I lost my job" she explained, she then drifted off slightly, thinking back to the time she met the dog

"You know, it's funny" she said, "I know I got that thing at the height of that madness involving three of you Turtles and that love potion that made them ga-ga over me, but I've never found out which one of them sent me that adorable creature"

"It's the thought that counts Irma, best not to dwell on the "hows" and "whys" of things and just bask in the gift given to you" Donatello advised, and put the dog down. He could tell Irma was still distant in her thoughts, and wondered if it had anything to do with the loss of her job.

"How are you holding up without any income?" he said.

"I may spend a little wildly, but when push comes to shove, I save wisely" Irma replied, putting the coffee mug down on her computer desk. "I'm looking to save up and start a series of aerobics tutorial DVDs over the next year or so, I've found it a proper and delightful hobby the last couple of months, a real light-headed, light-hearted distraction"

"Great minds think alike" Donatello muttered to himself, still unable to shake off that ridiculous routine he was indulging in before Irma greeted him. He opted to change the subject. He noticed a large stuffed teddy bear sprawled on the sofa.

"That the present you want fixed?" he said

"Yeah, the latest thing from an online novelty store. My ex sent it over to me" Irma said

"So you and Howie Hardy aren't making sweet music together?" Donatello asked

"I don't know why we're always on and off the way we are, I guess I just don't find him inventive enough, he always stays in the box rather than step out of it" Irma explained, "Anyway, we're still friends, and we do share the same sense of fun, so we've been giving each other silly presents over the holidays, kind of elevates our moods during a season where everyone else is so certain about things and we're so unsure if the next step is the right one"

"What's exactly wrong with this thing?" Donatello continued, touching the bear delicately with his finger, it gently fell down upon contact.

"It won't talk" Irma explained, "It's got about fifteen different phrases it can churn out, usually one for each month of the year, but it has a few extra things to say about Christmas"

"Aw gee Irma, this is a very sweet gift all things considered" Donatello said, and looked at the instructions on the bear's tag_: _"Press my tummy and I'll make it funny". He proceeded to press the bear's stomach, but what came out was a series of scrambled, distorted rasps in a low monotone voice.

"Yeah, I see what you mean" Donatello said, and picked the bear up, "Nevermind though, I'll have it good as new in no short order"

"Thanks Donny" Irma said, "With everything going on, I need something to remind me of what Christmas is really like"

"I'd best get going, I've got a Christmas roast to prepare, and now I've got to deal with a bear" Donatello said, and scrambled for the door, only to trip up and fall down. The dog, getting excited, began to dash around the fallen Turtle in a mad circle.

"With moments like this, you'll be the subject of a different kind of roast entirely one of these days" Irma joked.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Back at the Ice rink, April was huddled in the back of her news van, looking over the rushes of footage she had directed, cherry-picking the best shots and pointing out which ones to focus more on.

She was enjoying this particular job, it felt like a major step-up from regular reporting, she felt more in command.

So many times she can put together a compelling story only for her director to act up or for things to be interrupted by outside forces and no attempt would sometimes be made to remount the story. As she had proven several times over the last few months, only she seemed to have the stones to press forward with her ambitious attempts at conveying an important event to the general public, and if she could bring that fearlessness to everyone working for her, that could only lead to better reporting.

Before she could give instructions on how to best edit down the shots, she was interrupted by one of the news crew.

"Excuse me Mss O'Neil, but Mr. Fenwick is back from his errand" he said. April rolled her eyes.

"Fine, let's get this over with" she said, and exited the news van, grabbing her pink mittens off the control console and putting them on along with her ear-muffs.

As she exited the van and took one look at Vernon, she was overcome with an emotional response, one that she desperately needed after a couple of pent-up hours dealing with all the footage she'd shot.

There, standing before her, was Vernon dressed head to toe like Father Christmas. Right down to a beard that looked far too big for anyone to realistically claim as his own, his waist was noticeably wider, trying to emulate the portliness of the character. Vernon opened up the coat to reveal large amounts of padding beneath

"You don't have to point out how ingenious it is, I'm more than happy to show you" he said. April couldn't contain herself. "Vernon, you look like you can barely sit in a sleigh let alone ride one"

"Well it's a good thing we're not committing that far to this premise isn't it?" Vernon said dismissively and clicked his fingers. At the silent command, another member of the crew approached them with a pair of ice skates, Vernon took them, and tried to kneel down, only to split his pants in the attempt. The more misfortune that occurred to him, the merrier April's mood became.

"Just wait 'till you see me spread real joy to the little ones on that rink, Mr. Thompson's nephews' eyes will just light up when they watch me in action at home on television" he said as he put the skates.

"Yeah, in the meantime, most of us watching you in person will be throwing up" April remarked.

When it became obvious Vernon was having a lot of difficulty putting the skates on, April kneeled down and helped him out, albeit reluctantly. If anything, she was just trying to get back to more interesting work, which Vernon was doing his unintentional best to hold up.

"By the way, after putting up with what feels like an age of inquirers on my end, I've worked out how to give the right answer after all" April said, not sure why she was sharing this with Vernon, but felt like she had to share her excitement with people familiar with her, "Something came up about ten minutes before you arrived"

"That's all well and good, but I'm far concerned with my brilliant solution to the Santa supply" Vernon said, and, with the help of April, got to his feet. He staggered over to the rink and took to the ice.

"Stay on him" April instructed to the cameraman, "I don't want to miss an instant of this, the office Christmas tape needs as many fowl-ups as it can muster"

Sure enough, Vernon didn't disappoint. Losing his balance frequently, he would often cut in between dancing partners and solo exhibitionists, sometimes knocking them over or at the very least getting a sharp and harsh lecture.

He tried his luck with the kids, asking a young boy what he'd like for Christmas.

"Your beard" he said, and yanked it off, putting it on his own face and parading around with it. Vernon's own face began to gradually sink.

Back in the van, April once more felt like she was in control. No amount of ego-stroking from Vernon would get in her mood this day. Today was a day of real authority for her. It was a day of real empowerment, not just as a director or as a reporter, but a regular woman as well.

She couldn't wait to share such enthusiasm with the guys, provided they ever got here.

Her mood was slightly marred, however, when another crewman jumped in with a breaking story

"April, there's been a massive prison break-out, we just heard it on the news, it was instigated by the Rat King" he said.

"So much for peaceful holiday spirit" April replied, "Still, one can hope they receive a visit from the Turtles of Christmas Present"


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Raphael wished he had a watch to check as he finished off his hot and spicy meatball sandwich inside the nearby Subway restaurant. Michelangelo had been in the bathroom for about thirty minutes.

He wondered if he was having some "difficulty" given what had happened earlier with the two of them. Perhaps Michelangelo should have went before hand. He couldn't change what was transpiring now, he could only cringe to himself whenever someone else walked out of the rest room with an elated expression on their face and sounds of relentless laughter echoing from their voices.

Finally, Michelangelo stepped out. The place had become a lot busier in the half hour he had spent in there, and so many more customers got their first-hand look at what he was wearing. Like any who had been in the bathroom with him doing their business, many fell about in hysterical fits.

Draped from head to toe in a long velvet and purple cape, a sharp tuxedo, no shoes, and tight trousers with a replica snakeskin belt, and a twirly moustache covering his mouth, Michelangelo looked like someone had overcompensated at Halloween. He had trouble walking in the outfit, almost tripping up over the cape, which sparked further laughs from the crowd. Michelangelo eventually collected much of the cape up in his arms and sped towards the door. Raphael followed him.

"I can't believe you took so long in there" Raphael said as the two left Subway, "What was the matter? Did the "Phantom of the Arctic" feel a little too stiff under the collar in more ways than one?"

"Blame how tight these pants are" Michelangelo replied, "They're not coming off anytime soon"

"Not a bad notion in your case" Raphael remarked.

As the two walked down the street, Michelangelo continued to provoke awkward looks from passers-by. He felt embarrassed to even be wearing this. He was even frightening little babies as a mother pushed a pram past him, as soon as he and the baby in the pram made eye contact, the child was reduced to tears.

"Why did you insist on wearing that thing all the way to the rink?" Raphael asked, "At least going as your regular old self, people wouldn't be paging the heckler-hill mob notifying them the hooded claw was in town"

"Who are you calling old?" Michelangelo asked. Raphael shrugged, and changed the subject

"You didn't lose what was necessary for the application while you were in there right?" Raphael asked.

Michelangelo nodded, "Yeah, it's in my side pocket. I hope April doesn't mind that we went cheap on it" he said, "We needed more than enough to buy the item AND this awful outfit"

"Hey, like I've been saying, it's just a little thing to get you two in, besides, no matter how pricy it is, it's the look on April's face that will supply you with a truly priceless moment" Raphael advised."She'll be blown away by the offer"

The two passed a parked car, where a dog was locked inside of it, waiting for its owner to come out of the nearby store. Michelangelo waved to the little dog, taken in by its cuteness, but it too was taken aback by his costumed appearance and began ringing out a series of alert barks.

"Man, this Phantom suit really likes to blend reality and fiction together, whoever else bought this must have some seriously lonely nights to himself" he said,. "I don't think they can have pets dressed like this"

Michelangelo turned around and found Raphael was distracted, staring at a window full of televisions, where an emergency news report was being broadcast

"Police have been called to St Wells Orphanage, where what appeared to be a regular visit by the local exterminator soon escalated into a dangerous and ongoing hostage situation. The alleged exterminator has since barricaded himself inside the building, trapping the estimated number of 210 innocent children in with him. We talked to a senior staff member who managed to survive an altercation with the kidnapper"

The reporter switched to a live feed of the orphanage to talk with the victim, he was visibly shaken, but tried to compose himself for the cameras.

"What can you tell us about the situation?" the reporter asked

"It was...it was all so sudden" the man said, still rattled, "I opened the door and he said he was there to "gather the vermin", I invited him in, suddenly I noticed a large rat coming out of his jacket pocket, it ran up his shoulder and nibbled a bit at his ear, he seemed to smile at that. Then, I noticed his eyes glowing, I told him it was his job to get rid of such things, then he replied "The only thing we need rid of is you", then his eyes glowed a bright red, he picked me up by the neck of my tie, lifted me high above the air, and tossed me to the ground, then he shut the door. We have to get those children out of there, there's no telling what that man is capable of"

"That sounds an awful lot like a dirty rat we happen to know" Raphael said as he digested the information, "Come on, that orphanage isn't far from here"

"Can't we wait 'till I get out of this thing first?" Michelangelo asked, having more than enough difficulty trying to slip the replica snakeskin belt loose.

"No time for your present Mikey, we've got to ensure those kids have a future" Raphael said.

As the two began heading down the street, Raphael patched in to Donatello's frequency on the Turtle-Com. However, he was met with complete static

"Now what's that busy brainiac up to to warrant radio silence?" Raphael said.

With the crisis still fresh in his mind, he realized he had no time to dwell on it. With Leonardo busy collecting Master Splinter, and unable to reach Donatello, it seemed all hope for the children of _St. Wells_ lied with the unlikely heroic blend of a comedian and an idiot.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Pride.

It was forever a fragile thing.

At the most crucial of seconds, it can be dented, and all one can feel afterwards is a sense of strong humiliation.

As Donatello lit a candle and illuminated the now completely darkened lair, he felt such overwhelming humility wash over him. He stared at the oven, just a few minutes ago alive and vibrant with heat, cooking the large Christmas roast that would have more than sufficed for his fellow Turtles, his sensei, and their guests from Florida. Now the roast, after enjoying some many minutes of tantalising heat, would endure such heat no more and instead be subjected to a cooling off period that would delay the feast for much longer.

Donatello stared at the source of the power blackout, a small silver and emerald green tool connected to a series of wires plugged into a nearby adapter unit. The tool had a small blue orb attached to it, with several dents visible in it. Previously, it had no dents at all, but that was before he reversed the polarity of the neutron flow three whole times trying to get the job done quicker. The resulting surge had nullified all the power in the lair, including the power in his recharging Turtle-Com.

This sonic remote was one of his latest inventions. When it functioned properly, it could run well over fifty things at once. It could even operate machinery from a thousand mile radius with the right adjustments. Donatello was at least relieved he didn't guide the Turtle Van from the lair with it, otherwise Leonardo would never come back with his passengers.

Now that his carelessness and eagerness to do several things at once had led to the undoing of the lair, Donatello would now have to make repairs to Irma's teddy bear the old fashioned way. Using nothing more than a pair of hands, some tools, and his knowledge of computerized micro-chips.

What annoyed him more was that the process wouldn't even take him that long. It would take about twenty minutes in his estimation. Twenty minutes, and he had tried using the device to make the repairs in just one, with a fifteen minute roast taking about five had his invention ran smoothly.

He was a Turtle, and yet he couldn't seem to take anything slowly.

So he began to work, the candlelight his only companion, the only glimmer of warmth and hope in a mercilessly cold environment. He collected his tools and began to work away.

As the twenty minutes passed, Donatello kept going back to the chip in the bear, pressing it to see if the distortions were gradually being diminished with every adjustment.

He was delighted when he got "Merry..." followed by "Roses are red...", and then an utterance of "You better not...", it was nice to get such optimistic output from the thing at a time where he really needed a pick-me-up. The half-complete messages spurred him on and he continued to make repairs.

Eventually, the twenty minutes eventually passed and all seemed well. Donatello pressed the button down on the bear to hear the finished product in it's clearest form.

What he got made his heart and head sink.

"Merry Christmas...if that makes you go away for another twelve months, why not say it?" uttered the bear.

"Roses are red, violets are blue, Christmas brings cheer, which is why I hate you" followed.

"You better not hope, you best start to cry, Christmas is ruined, I'm telling you why...Santa Claus does not exist" followed that in a slightly out-of-tune melody, closely followed up by a raspberry blow.

Donatello didn't bother with the remaining messages. He was too incensed to continue.

Twenty minutes of his life wasted on a gift fit for pessimist adults and rebellious teens at a time of great benevolence. Twenty minutes that he tried to squeeze into one, which had cost him Christmas dinner, some free time to watch television and catch up on the news, and no way of communicating with the other Turtles to let them know what was going on.

All of it down the drain just to entertain Irma's dry and cruel sense of humour.

Donatello thought long and hard to himself, trying not to get too worked up at this time of the year, he tried to understand thing from Irma's perspective. The woman had recently lost her job, she'd broken up with her boyfriend, she was contemplating a different career path that could succeed or fail in the future. All these things coming to the surface WOULD make her edgy.

But what really irritated him was that she had begged him for help in this situation. He was not always this much of an optimist, but often tried to be around this time of year. After all, if he didn't have _some_ encouragement and optimism, the need for invention and creativity of any sort would be non-existent.

Now he'd been taken for a ride, he had contributed to Irma's misery by succeeding in his repairs, and the very idea of contributing to someone's foul mood was eating away at him.

"Right, if that's the way that...that woman wants to play it, I know just how to pay her back" he said, and, scrambling for a few fresh micro-chips, he set to work on supplying her with the right kind of payback.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

At _St. Wells_ Orphanage, the police squadrons had gathered and the situation was being assessed. The man in charge of the delicate operation, Sam Barrette, took to the old cliché of using a megaphone to yell out impassioned pleas to the cause of the hostage crisis for some kind of negotiation

"Rat King, we are willing to give you a fair shake so long as you give up your hostages" Barrette began, "Let them go one by one and we promise to allow the number of rodents pent up in that building safe passage out of it and back into the sewers. "

It wasn't long before a small note slipped out of the window. One of the officers ran up to collect it, he came over to Barrette's car and gave him the note. Opening it, Barrette found an assortments of vowels and crossed out letters. He processed it a little in his head and deduced the complete sentence was "Now I want to be a first grade teacher"

"Any idea what that means sir?" the officer asked. Barrette tore up the note, "He's playing games with us" Barrette replied. "And we can't afford to deal our hands so long as the children are in danger. It's bad enough this unit is practically chicken feed for him so many of the other patrols are dealing with the prison riot"

"Then allow us to lay a couple of green eggs on this large ham" came a snappy, enthusiastic voice. Barrett's men raised their weapons as two figures came into view. Barrette advised them to hold their fire, recognizing at least one of them

"Hold your horses fellas, these things are almost always on our side" he said, and went over to greet Raphael and Michelangelo of Ninja Turtles fame. "Teenage Mutant Turtles right?"

"You're missing the Ninja part dude" Michelangelo said

"Sorry, I grew up watching you guys on British tv back when the word "ninja" was a no-no. Frankly, I always found that less cheesy than the full thing" Barrette explained. "What can we do for you?"

"We caught wind of this bad storm and thought we could settle it for you" Raphael said, pointing to the orphanage, "How's the situation?"

"Troubling" Barrette replied, "Rat King has a good number in there, and we have to also take into account the rodent problem still present in the place, he could be surrounding those poor kids with as up to one hundred plus of vermin carrying all sorts of diseases, and they'll probably be peckish too, they could go for the building, they could go for the kids, we're up against the wall"

"Then we better tear down some walls down before the rats do" Michelangelo said. Barrette walked over to him, inspecting his gaudy outfit.

"And what exactly can you do to help out? Wave a magic wand and utter the lines "Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches?" Barrette said, mocking Michelangelo's attire, even pulling off his fake moustache, "There's only two of you. To get the job done you've got to be comprised of all fours"

"Hey, two birds is good for one stone" Raphael said, "Given all the cutbacks at work this time of year, we can only apologize you're not getting the full severance package"

"Please don't joke about salary rates at this time of year around me" Barrette said, before walking back to his car, "Go home and enjoy your holidays as best you can, I can't risk just using two of you, Blade, escort them out of here" he said to a taller man in a police outfit, "Sure boss" he said. Barrette turned around, something was off.

"Wait, that's not Blade's voice" he said, and put his hand on the officer's shoulder. Suddenly, the "officer" twirled around, handcuffed Barrett's hand to his own, and pulled him over, wrapping his arm around his neck, reaching for his weapon, and placing it against his temple.

"I'm afraid Blade became indisposed when he went for that doughnut around the corner" the man said, "I spilled out of the riot not knowing what to do with myself, so I opted to follow the Rat King and be close to the action. Unfortunately, as you just proved, my disguise isn't very foolproof, so we're going with a plan inspired by current events. I'm taking you hostage and guaranteeing myself safe passage out of here"

He pointed to the other officers, helpless to do much about it, "And none of you shall stop me" the criminal continued.

However, as he tried to move away, he found his legs snagged in some kind of rope that had wrapped around them. As he tried to move, he was hoisted from his position and sent crashing to the ground below.

As he groggily raised his head, it was sent crashing back to the pavement by the drop of a knee pad coming down from above as Raphael leapt off a police car and landed on him.

Michelangelo walked over to the crook, caught in his grappling hook wire, dusted his hands, and began to sing a little song to himself, _"Two hearts, taking out just one mind..."_

Raphael helped Barrette up, taking the key from the criminal's hand and freeing the officer. "Now that you've seen how this little double-take works, you sure you don't want us to give the Rat King twice the trouble?"

"Ok, ok, you've impressed me" Barrette said.

"Radical burst of enthusiasm dude" Michelangelo said, "Only question now is...how do we get in? Rat King's literally nailed it when it comes to protecting his crash pad"

"We can't use the windows either, that wouldn't even surprise him, he could give the order for one of those kids to be a chew toy for his pets"

Raphael pondered the problem for a while longer, but it wasn't long before Michelangelo came up with the answer simply by looking up. He nudged Raphael and pointed to what he saw

"Oh you've got to be kidding" Raphael said

"Hey, around this time of year we usually leave it to the pro with the sleigh, but if we want to wrap this up in a neat bow we're going to have to try it ourselves"

"Ok, but just so you know, it's a definite we'll be getting lumps of coal this Christmas" Raphael remarked.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

The Rat King couldn't help but feel proud of the police waiting outside for him. Whoever was in charge of them knew exactly what to say and how to pander to his exact needs. Were this any other kind of situation, he might even entertain the idea of compliance. The safety of the children for the survival of what was, in his mind, the superior species.

But things hadn't quite worked out that way.

Instead, when he took over the orphanage, overpowered and tied up what remained of the staff, and used his unique communication skills to rally up all the rats in the building, he stumbled across a unique range of reactions from the children.

Some were clearly frightened, and those that were huddled together in a tight circle, a few of the females standing atop chairs, while the rats simply looked up at them, curiosity their only real intent, but the fear of what they could do keeping the girls anchored to the spot.

Others, in particular the males, gravitated to his presence, taken in by how "cool" he was. Examining some of the rooms, the Rat King had even found that some of the children had even been secretly keeping some of the rats as pets and nourishing them, even putting them in small cages with female types so they could continue to breed.

So impressed was the Rat King that he elected not to make things too simple for himself, nothing so cut-and-dry as taking the rats from the building and building his kingdom up from scratch. This represented a different type of opportunity for him.

He would gather those that were not fazed by him or his subjects, he would sit them down, and he would tell them stories. Stories that gave them inspiration and interest in the world that slipped so far beneath the gaze of surface dwellers, and he hoped that, with such insight and inspiration, they would make something of their lives in their adult years, devoting their time to his favourite type of creature, and giving them greater control and dominion of the land above.

He began with the story of his prison escape, keeping the kids current with the news. It seemed to work, as many faces were alight with interest and were wowed by the "cool" factor of how resourceful the rat situated on his shoulder was in assisting the break-out.

"Tell another story Mr. King" echoed an ecstatic voice. The Rat King was surprised to find it was female, who was taking the time to pet some of the surrounding rats.

"Perhaps defying convention IS the mandate of the day" The Rat King expressed, and chose to share with them something different,

"What better way to convey that than to submit for your approval, the tale of the beast in the machine. When I was first beginning to build my kingdom, I made the mistake of assuming my subjects were not all equal...that they were of two distinct groups, the strong, and the weak. I punished those that were feeble and found it hard to keep up by feeding them to small white robotic creatures I had fished out of the remains of some derelict mansion uptown.

One day, I put one of these perceived failings in the belly of the machine. I didn't pay it any mind, that is, until a few days later, where I found the creature split wide open, with a gaping hole inside of it, and the rat back amongst the pack, evident by the mesh of wiring still fresh in its teeth and which coated whole areas of it's body. Against all odds, it had chewed and clawed what was thought to be impenetrable and impossible to slip out of. It was designed as the perfect prison, and on this occasion, it had failed. It is then that I realized that, while there was the strong, and there was the weak, there was also a third distinct group I had overlooked: The adaptable.

From then on, I deemed my subjects all equal in stature, for they could rise to the occasion at any given opportunity. This is the lesson I give to you, be you of weak mind or ill heart, when you are taken in by a prison of any kind, trapped in either the machine supplied by society or one supplied by your lack of confidence and lack of vision, don't just trust your reliable instincts and the old ways, change the game, defy convention, and sharpen new skills, for we all learn every day, and the lessons learned will shape whatever kingdom you desire"

The children gave him a standing ovation for the stirring story, and demanded another.

However, before The Rat King could indulge them further, everyone suddenly allowed silence to overtake them, all so they could pick up further on some faint commotion coming from above them. Slight grunts and faint insults as what sounded like two people squabbling amongst themselves got louder and louder

"You're standing on my head" came one voice.

"Better that than your sai, did you have to take that out before you climbed in?" asked another

"What is this defiance?" The Rat King bellowed, "Who dares disrupt me when I am entertaining my court?"

The answer came to him in a crumpled heap as Michelangelo and Raphael finally lost their footing and came crashing down the chimney and out of the fireplace in the centre of the room.

The kids all began laughing at the sight as the two turtles rolled over on top of each other before hastily springing to their feet and trying to cut an unconvincing action pose in front of the huddled group.

"Alright, that wasn't fun, but we're all about business today anyway" Raphael said, dusting himself off.

Michelangelo examined himself, his costume was covered in soot.

"Look at the state of me dude, this dirty look is going to get me nothing but dirty looks at the Ice rink" Michelangelo said.

"Turtles" The Rat King said.

Raphael sarcastically bowed, "We live to serve my liege...,in your case to serve you time"

"Are you little rascals ok?" Raphael asked of the frightened girls huddled on the chair. They nodded.

One of the braver kids, not happy with the intrusion, walked over to Raphael and stomped on his foot.

"Go away, Mr. King is telling us stories, he's not hurting anyone" the kid said in defence of his captor. Raphael hopped about for a bit in pain, "Oh yeah, I can tell his storytelling has really left an impact on me" he replied.

"We've got a few stories that'll easily surpass anything he's been telling you little dude, starting with the tale of how we cleaned his clock today" Michelangelo said, and he tried to approach the Rat King, twirling his nun-chucks around.

However, one of the rats began to chew away at the back of his cape, which sent him reeling back. The distraction allowed The Rat King the chance to take out a laser gun and aim it at the helpless Turtle and opened fire, but Raphael was able to tackle Michelangelo, which in turn caused part of his cape to tear away from the grip of the rat's teeth, splitting it into two halves.

"I'm really starting to look the part aren't I?" Michelangelo said as he looked at the tattered remnants of his cape. Raphael quickly got him up as The Rat King's gun fired another shot. They ducked out of the way and cornered him from left to right, the rats scurrying over the pair of them as they did so, trying to protect their master, nibbling slightly at their eyes.

"Hey, I'm meant to be green and orange, not black and blue" Michelangelo replied, tearing the rats away from his face.

"We've gotta get clear of these furry fritters, they're making it impossible to kick the King off his throne" Raphael replied, throwing a few off of him

"My kingdom rallies to my defence, what can the two of you possibly do against thousands of four legged soldiers?" The Rat King uttered, raising his weapon and waiting until the creatures had managed to position the panicked pairing of Turtles in the middle of the hall, allowing him a clear cut shot that would render both of them helpless.

Suddenly, he found his moment interrupted by the little girl who had been brave enough to surround herself with the rats, the one that had encouraged him to tell the children another story. She stood in front of the two Turtles with her arms spread

"Please Mr. King, don't hurt them, it's Christmas" she said.

"Get out of the way kid" Raphael cried out

"Yeah, when that guy sets out to cut through someone, he doesn't care who's on the floor" Michelangelo added

"Out of the way youngling" The Rat King said, his finger squeezing down hard on the trigger. The girl remained where she was, anchored to the spot.

The tension mounted, the Rat King's trigger-finger trembled, the Turtles continued to struggle against the teeming hordes of rodents, unable to do anything to take the child out of harms' way.

Finally, when all seemed ideal, The Rat King sighed and relented, and tossed the gun away.

"Give them safe passage" he whispered. At this command, the rats ceased their attack on the two Turtles and swarmed around him.

The Rat King tore open the carpet beneath him, revealing the wooden floorboard, he pulled open one of the planks, and instructed the rats to pour down it.

The Turtles saw their opportunity to nab their foe and moved in, but the girl suddenly opted to shield _him_ this time, "Like we were saying, he didn't harm us, he just told a story...he gave us a gift" she said.

"What gift was that?" Raphael asked

"What better gift than one of knowledge?" The Rat King replied, and, as soon as the last rat went under the board, he put up his hands in surrender, "And in turn, their patience, their tolerance, and their bravery taught me to no longer take an old saying for granted: Suffer not the children"

Michelangelo tied his grappling hook rope over The Rat King's hands whilst Raphael took freeing the helpless staff members.

Eventually the barricade blocking the door was lifted, enabling the Turtles to walk out of the building with their prisoner in tow. The cops ran over to them and took The Rat King into custody. As he was led away, several of the kids accompanied him, telling any officer who listened how he hadn't been a threat and he shouldn't be treated like a rat in a cage.

"I return to the belly of the beast, a prisoner of the machine...but remember what I told you my younglings...adaptability is a key of life, there are no groups, we are all of equal mind, and working within that mind, we will all become a pack" he said. The officers mocked his stirring speech by circularly moving their fingers near their temples. indicating he was "cuckoo"

As the car carrying The Rat King drove off, Barrette approached the Turtles. "Congratulations guys, we owe you for this, that must of been one hell of a fight "

"Hey, we didn't lift a finger except to rattle off the rats biting them" Raphael said, "Sometimes you just have to put it down to the good old spirit of the holidays"

"Amen dude, I just hope everyone at the rink is totally tubuloso in spirit to look past my appearance" Michelangelo remarked, again referring to the tattered, coal-ridden remnants of his phantom outfit.

"I suppose being dressed like a phantom is the biggest reason you're making such an opera out of this" Raphael said.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

As the news reports began to come in updating the city on the status of the hostage situation at _St. Wells, _Irma couldn't help but feel incredibly guilty as she watched everything unfold on television.

Learning that only two of the Turtles had played a hand in bringing the crisis to a halt had worried her, she wondered if Donatello had forsaken his responsibilities to the city because she had given him a task that felt so trivial and pointless compared to the magnitude of what had just transpired.

She had tried contacting him on the Turtle-Com when the crisis had begun, but there had been no answer, which only made her worry more.

Had he been attacked on his way home?

Did The Rat King get to him first?

So many questions, and ones that could only now be answered by a simple touch of her door buzzer, or, if he wanted to come through the side, a tap on her window.

She remembered the last time he tried that. She almost decapitated him with a frying pan. She allowed herself a warm smile when reflecting on that, but it was only momentary.

Finally, the door buzzed, Irma's pet roared into life, barking madly. Irma calmed the pet down with a few strokes and walked up to the door and unlocked it.

In came Donatello, a stern, icy look on his face. The heavy teddy bear Irma had wanted fixed clasped in both of his hands. Holding his head up, Donatello stomped over to the sofa and deposited the bear on it, before sitting down next to it, his arms folded and one leg crossed over the other.

"Don?" Irma uttered, a little nervous. Donatello looked over to the television. "What's going on?" he said.

Irma, realizing Donatello didn't know what had happened, panicked and hastily switched the television off.

"Hey, who needs to watch how the world works at winter? It's almost always the same unexciting thing" Irma anxiously replied, and took to the kitchen, "You want some coffee or anything?"

"A protein shake would do just fine" Donatello replied, "Be sure to use ALL your vegetables, I like it good, juicy, and in vast quantities"

Irma froze. He was only ever this excessive when he was mad about something.

"So, how'd the...repairs go?" she asked as she prepared the shake, hoping Donatello would oblige her if she did what he asked of her

"Oh it went pretty well all things considered...until I used a dues ex machina which ended up being a DUH ex machina" Donatello replied, "I caused a power outage that took out all the levels of electricity in the lair, so once I took your thing out of the shop, I had to utilize as much emergency power as possible. Still haven't quite succeeded there by the way" he continued.

By now, Irma felt like cowering in a corner, her head hung in shame. Donatello's sarcasm-laced rant was gnawing away at her

"I'm using as many candles as I can just to find my way through the lair, I managed to get my Turtle-Com going once again, I might have to buy a couple of gerbils at the pet store and attach them to special conductor treadmills that can generate consistent energy levels, which means having to sacrifice my Christmas budget, and it looks like a succulent Christmas dinner for everyone at home is off the cards too" he continued, "But all of that doesn't matter because repairing YOUR teddy bear with all it's cute and optimistic language about the holidays is all I cared about"

"So you HAVE heard it rattle off a few things correct?" Irma asked, pouring the vegetables into the blender and scrunching them up to form an unappealing green, purple and orange liquid.

"Oh I heard it alright...I caught a lot of interesting things, but hey, it's your gift, maybe you ought to hear it yourself?"

Irma gulped. "I don't think so...I don't exactly feel very moody anymore"

"Oh I think this bear is exactly what you need Irma, come on, you owe me as much for taking all that time to make it work again"

Irma finished preparing the shake and brought it over to Donatello, he patted the edge of the sofa, urging her to sit down. Irma grinned nervously and did so. She looked at the bear staring into her. She felt quite intimidated by the whole situation.

Donatello took the shake and downed it in one greedy gulp. He let out a small burp, wiped some of the liquid from his mouth and looked at Irma, urging her to press the bear's stomach, "Go on, let's hear some of that holiday cheer"

Irma was scared. Certain thoughts came to her mind, "_Was Donatello so mad that he made certain adjustments to it himself? Would the bear be ruder than ever?"_

Rationalizing that the fear of the unknown was a lot worse, Irma pressed the button and closed her eyes tight, bracing herself for the worst.

"Roses are red, violets are blue, Christmas is clear when I've got faith in you" came a distinctly familiar voice from the bear. Irma's eyes sprang open, and her face began to beam happily. She pressed the bear again

"Merry Christmas...if that makes you stay forever, why not say it every day?" the voice uttered. By now Irma could tell the voice was Donatello's. She turned back over to him

"How...what...I thought..." she rattled off in succession. Donatello shrugged.

"I replaced the original and much more pessimistic voice modulations with something a bit more upbeat, hope you don't mind" he said, "I figured you needed a bit of a boost over the holidays"

"You did all of that...for me?" Irma asked.

"What are friends for?" Donatello replied, and leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek, "Merry Christmas Irma"

As he prepared to get up, he found him being held to the spot by Irma, who clutched his hand tight.

"Don, this is way above and beyond what any normal friend would do for someone...this took real effort, effort I've rarely ever seen even from my long laundry list of suitors. You really put your back into this, all to snap me out of my salty attitude, that deserves some real sugar sweetheart"

She kissed him on the forehead. Donatello blushed brightly.

"My my Donatello, are you auditioning for the part of Rudolph?" she asked, observing the red around his face.

"I'm just really glad I was more upfront with giving you a gift this time" he said.

Irma was taken back. "What do you mean?" she said

"Well...who do you THINK got you that puppy?" he said.

Irma's eyes welled up, she looked at the dog as it lovingly darted across the room, she looked back at Donatello, and, without any further hesitation, gently kissed him on the mouth.

The two were anchored to the spot, suspended in a sense of timelessness, revelling in the merry moment, the pull of the holidays and the complexity of loneliness had conspired for real magic to unfold this fateful afternoon, and neither would just forget about it when it was over. This was now and forever. In this spark of passion, a lifetime of possibility was unfolding for the pair of them.

As both enjoyed the moment, Irma's phone suddenly started ringing, forcing her to pull away to answer. The two began giggling. As Irma got up, Donatello fell backwards in a fit of joyous hysterics, repeating the words "oh boy" and "wow" to himself repeatedly.

Irma got to the phone, trying hard to contain her own giggles, and answered. "Hello?" she said.

"Hi Irma, just me" came the familiar voice of April O'Neil, "I thought you wouldn't mind coming down to Rockefeller Centre to see me and the Phantom of the Arctic take to the rink, we go live in about thirty minutes"

"Sure, after all that's happened today, I think I need some air" Irma replied, looking back at Donatello, who waved at her nervously

"Great. Raphael also got in touch with me, he says Leonardo, Splinter and the Frogs will be joining us just in time for the skate-off" April continued, "See you then"

After April had ended the call, Irma looked back to Donatello, "Ready to go out for a bit?"

"We're rushing into things already?" Donatello asked. Irma shook her head, "April's skating off in half an hour, I want to see how she fares. Everyone's coming along"

"What should we tell them?" Donatello continued, springing up from the sofa and jumping wildly everywhere, energetic and excited.

"I'll just say I got my gift" Irma replied, gently patting Donatello's head and graciously stroking his face, "I won't specify which one"

Irma fetched the lead for her dog, attached it to the animal, and, arm in arm, she and Donatello walked out of the apartment to see the action at the rink unfold.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

At the rink, there was a sense of unity from all assembled, as the kids were pouring onto the ice in droves and couples continued to make the most of their elegant and romantic glides across the floor.

As they skated and skidded across the floor, the helpless Vernon Fenwick was slumped somewhere in the middle, having slipped and fell on his bottom earlier, and finding himself unable to stand as a group of mischievous children surrounded him, holding hands and forming a protective circle, keeping him isolated. They began to sing an agonizing song.

"Ho Ho Hum, Santa's on his bum" they chanted. Vernon groaned.

What was worse was that, amongst the heckling kids, were Mr. Thompson's nephews, who had pressured their uncle to let them come down after seeing the turmoil Vernon had experienced in his Santa guise earlier.

While all this was unfolding, April was staring at her watch, checking the time, anxiously awaiting the arrival of her Phantom. It was almost time to hit the airwaves.

"Oh where is he? We're on in five" she said.

Suddenly, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned around, and her worries melted away as a familiar face greeted her

"Happy holidays April" said the friendly voice of Leonardo, who was accompanied by Splinter and the Turtles' old allies, the Punk Frogs, all dressed in snugly jackets and mittens.

"Boy am I glad you got here. I heard the stations were all snowed in" April said

Leonardo nodded, "They certainly were, but the Frogs, sensei and I all volunteered to clear the paths as best we could" he said, "As a result, we couldn't pry ourselves away from it and couldn't deal with that hostage crisis down at the orphanage"

"We can only be thankful that the other, most urgent deed of the day was carried out by two of my students" Splinter said

"Speaking of them, where are Raphael and Michelangelo?" Leonardo asked, "Raphael told us to meet him, Mike and you here"

"Beats me Leonardo" April replied, "But at this rate, they'll have instants to spare rather than seconds"

"Boy it sure is nice seeing all those people dancing on top of frozen water like that" remarked Rasputin the Frog, "If only we could get some of that down in the swamp, it's always good and toasty down there"

"We've had such a nice bit of variety these last couple of hours" replied Napoleon Frog, "First by taking the bus rather than the pesky old sewer route, clearing up the busy Manhattan roads and getting a real taste of what a shovel can do, now I feel like going on the ice and showing everyone why frogs legs are the diamonds of the dance"

Donatello and Irma were the next to arrive, their dog in tow.

"We're here April" Irma said, "Now when exactly does the lout of the dance show up?"

"Be nice Irma...one of us has to be, since if he's any later I'm going to have to kill him" April said.

Leonardo noticed Donatello's arm was wrapped around Irma's.

"Are you in the escort business now or are you just happy to see her?" Leonardo asked. Donatello, alarmed, quickly yanked his arm out of Irma and waved to Leonardo.

A police car suddenly pulled up behind them, and out of it emerged Michelangelo and Raphael

"Thanks for the ride copper dude" Michelangelo replied, waving to officer Barrette, who waved back before driving away.. The two turtles walked over to greet Leonardo, the Frogs, Splinter, and April.

"I'm ready to put on a show dudette" he said. April took one look at the tattered, coal-ridden remnants of his outfit and tried to hold back her laughter.

"Yeah, you sure look the part" April remarked sarcastically, and pointed to the rink, "Brush yourself down a bit and get into the swing of things, let's really make an impact out there, just not the kind Vernon tends to make"

Michelangelo was nervous, but steeled himself up for the occasion, and, after wiping some of the dirt from his outfit, he took April's hand and glided across the ice. As the cameras came to life, so did the pair of them, starting off elegantly with a slow dance, then, as April whispered instructions to Michelangelo on what to do next, co-originating the entire session so he couldn't screw it up.

Michelangelo tried following everything to the letter, but on some occasions he slipped. He compensated for this by, at points where he thought he was careering out of control, he would pick April off of her feet and, before hitting the edge of the rink, stuck out one foot, it graced the side, enabling him to propel the foot off of it and dash back on to the rink with one leg still perched upright. April was impressed

"I've seen you sweep me off my feet when rescuing me from a burning building, but this is a whole other level for you" she said. Michelangelo smiled.

The burst of enthusiasm from her seemed to calm his nerves and the two were able to finish off the dance without much more incident. As April made the signal for the cameras to cut, she and Michelangelo gave each other a high five.

"Thanks for the dance lesson dudette, we're a total team out there" Michelangelo replied

"Think nothing of it Mike" April said

Michelangelo scratched the back of his head anxiously, "Er, April, I know this is a bit of a stretch for you to accept this, but according to Raph, I heard this was how you apply for this big thing I wanted you to go with me to..."

"Here it comes, here it comes" Raphael said excitedly, rubbing his hands and sporting a sinister grin.

"What are you getting at Mike?" April said

Michelangelo dug deep into his pocket and produced a small purple case, he popped it open, revealing a small brass ring dotted with micro sized diamond pebbles.

April clasped both of her hands together and put them against her mouth, she was awestruck

"Will you..." Michelangelo attempted to ask, but found himself stuttering, "Will you..."

Raphael couldn't contain himself anymore, he laughed out loud hysterically, "Oh boy, this is going into my next book on the best pranks ever, just look at the expression on her face"

"What are you up to now Raphael?" Leonardo said.

"Calm down Raph, calm down" Raphael said to himself, "I want to hear what she says about this, oh when I'm good, I'm good"

"Will you..." Michelangelo continued, trying desperately to get the words out. April put one finger to his mouth and whispered "sshhh", before saying "yes"

"But I didn't finish the question" Michelangelo said.

"You don't have to say anything else...yes, yes, I'll marry you" April replied

Raphael felt like punching the air, "Yes, that's what I'm..."

He suddenly froze, the magnitude of what he'd said coming to him.

"What did she say?" he said out loud.

"Not what I was getting at...but...hey, score one for bachelor Ninja Turtles everywhere" Michelangelo said, and threw his arms around April, the two embracing as several other people on the ice wiped their tears and applauded the sight

"Obviously I've missed a scene or two in this episode?" Irma said

"I don't get it, she was supposed to...to...she wasn't meant to..." Raphael said to himself repeatedly.

"Nothing in life goes by the design of the one individual, but by the intent and heart of those united with common purpose" Splinter said, "I feel most proud today to see that tradition of life maintained"

"It was just a joke, that thing we got her was dirt cheap, I wouldn't have said _'yes'_ with a thing like that"

"It's the thought that counts Raphael" Donatello replied.

As the music on the rink's loudspeakers started up, _"Finally Found"_ by Honeyz, everyone resumed dancing, including April and Michelangelo, all whilst Raphael continued to try and dissect just how much his prank had backfired.

"How was I?" April whispered to Michelangelo

"You were loud and proud babe" Michelangelo replied, he took another look at Raphael, "Think we should leave him like that all week?"

"It was a good thing you used your bathroom break earlier to let me in on what he was trying to pull on you, at least he didn't tell you what his idea of babysitting was, then we'd really be in trouble"

"I may be a little empty in the nest sometimes, but I've still got one chick in there that's well-fed" Michelangelo replied, happy to signify that he wasn't as gullible as Raphael had assumed, and that he had successfully gotten the better of the prankster of the group.

April kissed him on the forehead.

"Thanks" she said, "I've been struggling with finding the right answer for ages now...I don't think with everything that goes on that I'll ever find someone regular I can have a similar experience with. If anyone had to ask me that question, I'm glad it was you"

"Happy to oblige babe" Michelangelo replied, and ticked April's nose with his right hand.

"Mike?" April said.

"What?" Michelangelo replied

"Does it have to end?" she said.

"Woah...you mean...you want to actually keep this going for a week?" Michelangelo said, "Why not cut it off when the jokes in it's prime?"

"What if it doesn't have to be a joke?" April said, wrapping her arms around Michelangelo's neck. The Turtle got hot and heavy very quickly as uncertainty coursed through him.

"You said you couldn't find someone" Michelangelo said

"I said someone _regular_." she replied, "You guys have always been right up my street. Especially you. You've been sharing and saving my world so many times it's high time I swooped in and shared yours"

"This is a pretty gnarly notion April...especially for two friends" Michelangelo replied, the dance helping to ease his nerves.

"We're best friends Mike. Best friends can make the most incredible things happen if they're brave enough, and I know precisely just how brave you are. No matter how much the weight of the world feels like it's pinning you down, you have the strength to lift it high above your shoulders and endure a task that puts even Atlas to shame"

"People are so gonna talk" Michelangelo said.

"Let them, so long as they say "_that girl likes him, and he likes her"_...do you Mike? Do you like me?"

Michelangelo was on the spot, part of him thought it wasn't fair, part of him was open to answering, excited, unsure, happy, conflicted, all the range of emotions were open to him. He chose in this instant to be brave.

"Of course I do. I always have...just never thought you'd ever..." he began, April cut him off by gently pressing her head against his.

"It's ok my brave little party dude" she whispered, "You can think about a lot of different things now"

As the music came to a stop the two ceased dancing and stood in the centre of the rink, they both looked up at the twinkling stars. They saw a shooting comet fly past.

"Think we should go as fast as that?" she asked

"I'm a turtle babe. We're going the only pace I know. Slow" he said.

"You're the boss" April replied, "And at least a boss like you won't dock my pay"

"So are we still going to that martial arts thing?" Michelangelo said.

"Oh totally" April said, posing in a fighting stance jokingly.

Eventually, the two left the rink, and, after April had overseen a few more cuts of the programme in the news van's editing suite for the complication programme over Christmas, joined the Turtles and the Frogs in the Turtle Van.

As the van drove down the busy streets, Raphael was still trying to piece together what had happened.

"I don't get it...you two? YOU TWO?" he continued, "Who in the heck would marry the pair of you?"

"Last I checked, Casey Jones is still a master of ceremonies down in Texas" Leonardo replied, smiling.

"Don't you join in too" Raphael said.

"Boy, I sure am hungry" Rasputin said, "Any chance we can head on down to your lair and chow down on some food, anything but Pizza will do"

"Sorry guys, I had a roast going, but there were complications" Donatello replied.

"Don't worry, I've got a plump one back at home, we can have dinner over there" Irma said. Donatello grinned.

"Where have you been all my life?" he asked.

The van pulled over at the traffic lights, where a lot of angered drivers were busy hammering their car horns and making a lot of commotion.

"What's going on there?" Leonardo asked, and peered out.

He caught a glimpse of a bunch of hoodlums jumping up and down the cars, knocking over newsstands and threatening helpless citizens, a few police cars were there, but the cops seemed helpless as hostages had been taken

"Guess there's no rest for the wicked even at this time of year" Leonardo said

"Of course, the prison break-out, we forgot all about it" Raphael said

"The let's make sure those crooks don't forget who protects this city" Leonardo said, getting out of the car and darting through the traffic, "Come on Turtles"

"Alright, time to deliver some much needed Christmas beatings" Michelangelo yelled, tearing off his disguise and jumping out of the van, before turning back and offering April his hand, "You don't mind working on our first date do you?"

"Are you kidding? There's nothing better than coping with stories like this every day of your life" April said, and took his hand as he led out of the van, the two ran after Leonardo.

Donatello followed, "They might need some logic thrown into this" he said to Irma, Irma kissed him on the cheek, "Go and blind him with science" she said.

"Ok, all this mushiness is getting me so riled up, I'm going to give any Coney island cousin I see an extra few knocks on the noggin if I see any kissing going on" he said, and also ran out of the van in pursuit of his brothers.

"Hey, don't forget about us" said Napoleon, as he and the other Frogs followed them out.

All that was left were Splinter and Irma, watching the Turtles and Frogs take to the streets to deliver as best a brand of justice as they could dish out. So much had changed for some of the Turtles in such short a time, but when push came to shove, they remained the same as they always were.

"Those mutants sure are miracles aren't they Mr. Splinter" Irma remarked.

"To preserve peace and love, and ensure fun...merry Christmas from us...everyone" Splinter said, and delivered a small wink to an invisible camera

"Who are you winking at?" Irma asked.

**THE END**


End file.
